I was pondering the life of an influencer over the holiday break—because why think about taxes, family, or existential dread when you can overanalyze people yelling at a tiny lens? And it hit me: these people, these camera-talking wizards, have an insane cocktail of confidence, courage, and apparently a complete disregard for the crushing humiliation most of us feel when we accidentally wave at a stranger in the street.

Seriously, do you know how hard it is to talk to a tiny lens and have a conversation with everyone watching (and no one at all)?

Try talking to a mirror for 15 seconds without zoning out—and then imagine hundreds, maybe thousands, watching you do it. (And no, that advice about imagining people in their underwear to calm your nerves doesn’t work. Trust me.)

The hardest part isn’t remembering your lines. It’s the existential terror of knowing that everyone and no one is watching. It’s like hosting a dinner party where the guests are ghosts who are also silently judging your haircut.

Imagine a hyperactive, neurodivergent monkey with a caffeine drip trying to edit a video. That’s me. That’s also why my attempts at influencer-ing usually end with 47 incomplete TikToks and a very confused dog.

So here’s my takeaway: Influencers are not merely brave—they are part athlete, part therapist, part circus performer. They stare into a lens, whisper sweet nothings to ghosts, and somehow convince themselves (and sometimes thousands of strangers) that this is a normal Tuesday.

No thanks. Not for me.

I have nothing but respect, awe, and mild terror for anyone who can do this. Influencers (well, most of them) are human lightning bolts—caffeinated, absurd, able to create entire alternate realities while the rest of us struggle to remember to eat lunch.

Meanwhile, I will continue my highly productive career of staring at mirrors, muttering to myself, and occasionally drafting blog posts about whatever my distracted, over-caffeinated brain settles on long enough to string a bunch of words together in a semi-cohesive way.

I will never be an influencer (I can’t think of a reason I would ever want to be). I can barely convince myself that talking to a mirror isn’t weird.

But I can write about it—caffeinated, manic, absurd, and laughing at the very idea that anyone could make this look easy. And the best part? I don’t even have to imagine anyone in their underwear to get it done.

There’s more waiting at https://xinkblotz.com Telling stories, sharing thoughts, and drinking coffee. A blend of fiction, reflection, and whatever’s brewing – one post at a time.